Bully stepbrother

63. I wanted to drown myself

MADISON

Asher's car has been at the service shop since yesterday, so Daniel is giving us a ride to school today. Since he isn't an early bird like us, we are probably going to be late for class.

Luckily we aren't. We push open the double doors to the auditorium and step into a packed, noisy room.

"Argh, they've taken the front row," Asher groans as we look around for empty seats.

"I don't want it anyway," I mutter, squeezing into the fourth row where I spot a free space so we can sit next to each other.

"I don't think he's coming, like yesterday and the day before. He's probably dropped out as we speak," Asher jokes behind me. I almost spin around to tell him not to say that, but he has no clue about me and Caden. As far as he knows, Caden is just my annoying stepbrother. So I keep walking, swallowing down the bile in my throat.

Forget him, I miserably tell myself.

We don't even reach our seats before the professors walk in and the noise subsides. Everyone starts pulling out notes and tablets.

"Sorry I'm late myself, quiet everyone," the professor says as he turns from the board, where he has written: Perception. "I told you last time we will be discussing perception..." He doesn't get to say more before the door opens. My eyes instinctively snap that way, hoping to see him.

Caden.

It has been five days since I left the apartment, and ever since, he has been absent from all our classes. The guilt of him possibly giving up on school because of me has been a pest in my brain, so just seeing him now, strolling down the steps, looking the way he does even on his terrible days, brings a rush of relief through me.

"Well, he lives," Asher remarks sarcastically. I quickly wipe the smile off my lips and blink rapidly at my friend, like I've just been caught guilty on all charges.

"You okay?" Asher asks, and I nod.

I try not to watch and force myself to focus on the professor taunting a nonchalant Caden for being late, while Caden effortlessly gets someone to leave their seat so he can take it.

Then he looks back, searching, and all of me tenses up. I drop my eyes to my notebook, hyperaware of his gaze finding me.

He is searching for me. He always does. But is he working on himself? That is the only thing that matters.

I know damn well the chances are slim, and that reminder only scratches at the wound he has already inflicted on me.

What if we never end up together? What if he never fights for us?

Asher isn't focused on me, thankfully, so he misses my body language.

The class discussion on perception is so intense that it feels like a nightmare to my freshly broken heart. At some point I can't take it anymore or I might burst into tears, so I spare myself the anguish and push my AirPods into my ears, ignoring the concerned look Asher gives me.

Just screw it.

The rest of the classes are the same tortured attendance. Nothing settles in my mind long enough to matter for my studies.

I hate it because this is supposed to be my happy place. My dream school and major. But it all feels distant from what I want now.

The last class of the day ends around 3 p.m. I watch Caden exit through the downstairs door, quick as lightning. My inner voice says he is improving if he is honoring the space I asked for, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.